"Rippled spinal coreds!" she yelped in boredom as Prak massaged body parts which we dare not mention in this story.
"Oh, feed up." belched John, the only man who changed his name every other second.
"But...but...but..."
"No, sorry, this is a no shoes, no neck hairs, no service joint, sir."
"Don't sir me."
"Oh, better make it four then."
"Ack!"
(s)He ran, singing an instrumental that is yet to be written.
"Fourth floor, please."
"Ooh, sorry. Didn't know I was crowding you."
"Keep your hands off the level!!!"
"Good point."
"No, I won't buy that."
"No! Not yet."
"So.. you admit that you are, and use, pacifiers. CORRECT?"
"Maybe."
"GRAAAARGGGHHH"
"The crowd roars."